


The Many Worlds Declivity

by Aestera



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Shenny - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28630224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aestera/pseuds/Aestera
Summary: Penny’s sudden breakup with Leonard is a larger blow than anticipated. Sheldon dabbles in drugs, and boldly theorizes that the breakup happened in not only one but all known realities. Penny struggles with alcoholism, not realising that a baseless hypothesis is practically a love confession when it comes to Sheldon Cooper.
Relationships: Sheldon Cooper/Penny
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set right after S3E19 The Wheaton Recurrence, in a canon divergence where Leonard takes the breakup a lot harder and moves out. Felt obligated to give my two favorite characters an arc and ending they deserved, since Canon sucked balls.  
> There will be some mentions of drug use and descriptions of physical injuries and childhood abuse from chapter three onwards, thought I'd flag it here first, so please proceed as cautioned. Please comment—they truly brighten my day—and as always, thanks for reading!

Penny’s apartment is empty. And worse still, quiet. The constant flow of indecipherable jabber from 4A that never seemed to cease has faded into memory. Everything seeps through the building thin walls, and it always brightened her evenings when she caught snippets of Sheldon’s tirades or Howard’s creepy regales as she attempted to microwave undercooked pasta, before giving up altogether and crossing the hallway to grab a takeout box from their table. Leonard always bought her share even on nights where she told him she wouldn’t be joining them. There were stray pizza boxes and shard of glass from wine bottles littered all over her wooden flooring. Maybe if she made the place look like a typhoon had just swept through it, Leonard might come back to tidy it up like he did the night after she moved in. He would knock at her door, sheepishness etched into his every pore, wringing his hands with furrowed brows. She would throw her arms around him and it’ll be okay. They’ll be fixed. She just needed to wait.

She’s sprawled out on her couch now. A total wreck. Hasn’t looked into a mirror in days, she probably looked worse than the time Sheldon got her hooked on Age of Conan. It had been two weeks since the disastrous incident at the bowling alley, when she and Leonard had that awful argument which caused him to move out. He had been sulky and unbearably passive aggressive for days after she refused to tell him she loved him. She planned to say it at the bowling alley, but was dumb enough to let Will Wheaton of all people get to her. The look of desperation and confusion on Leonard’s face after she yelled at him was like a sucker punch to the gut. Everything was going wrong. Her career couldn’t end because it never started. Her time spent with Leonard and the guys was her only solace. And now it was all ruined.

She’s completely hammered, barely able stand. It’s been years since she had last chugged down a bottle of Merlot and chased it with another of Cuban rum. Making dinner was out of the question, she could barely whip up mac and cheese even when she was sober. Right then, a knock on her door. She leapt up and immediately slumped back down on her couch.

“Leonard?” She slurs. No response.

Getting down on her stomach, she army crawls to her front door, opening it with both hands with help from her teeth. No one, except for a lone Chinese take-out box, chopsticks balanced diagonally on its lid at a perfect forty-five-degree angle. The hallway is silent, except for the low drone of the Battlestar Galactica theme song emanating from 4A. No, it couldn’t be. Sheldon? He never got take out by himself. But he would have to now, since Leonard isn’t living with him anymore. She grabs the box, shut the door and digs in, too wasted and hungry to wade through the possibility and implications of Sheldon Cooper doing her a favor without her having to renounce her dignity and endure ridicule for days on end.

Each replay of that disastrous night of bowling brings new details to the surface. It was mostly a blur of emotions. Then the warmth Sheldon’s shoulder, the soft cotton of his shirt against her cheek. She closes her eyes and focuses. Pre-game cocktails. Bickering with Leonard in the car. Bowling. Three strikes in a row. Will Wheaton. Her finally snapping. She made it out into the hallway before breaking down. She was about to stumble into the ladies when she felt cool fingers on her elbow. It was Sheldon, who retracted his hand swiftly right as she turned around.

“Penny—"

“Sheldon, for God’s sake!” She shouted. “Can’t you see I’m—”

“Leonard was being an asshole.”

She had never heard him swear before. “What?”

“He was asking you to lie to him.” His voice was level, unlike hers, and something about it calmed her down slightly. “To tell him you love him even when you don’t mean it.”

“So you’re an expert on love now?”

“I’ve never claimed to be one. But human attraction is formulaic at its best, dreadfully vacuous at its worst. I’m a scientist, Penny. I observe, if nothing else. You avoid eye contact with Leonard even when he’s gawking at you. You limit lip contact to a friendly peck, presumably in fear that allowing his tongue access into your buccal cavity would encourage more attempts at coitus. And most noticeably, you’ve dodged every attempt to be alone with him, even going as far as to invite Wolowitz along to attend an ill-advised bachelorette party at your friend Kim’s house.”

She sighed and sunk against a wall, pulling her knees up to her chest. “You noticed all of that?”

To her surprise, he pulled out a Batman picnic blanket from his crossover bag, spread it out on the space next to her and sat down. From his back pocket, he retrieved a pack of Kleenex and handed to her.

“Thanks.” She blotted at the mascara and stray fake eyelashes all over her cheeks. “And you’re wrong. I do love him, it’s just…complicated.”

He frowned, stealing a glance at her. She could almost see codes and graphs swimming in his irises. “Does love not constitute a desire for physical proximity and intimacy? Just when I think I’ve gotten a grasp on social etiquette and convention; an anomaly inserts itself and completely dismantles my meticulously crafted algorithm.”

She wracked her brain for a convincing explanation, a feat under Sheldon’s scrutinizing gaze. “I think I’m more comfortable loving him from a distance. You know, sometimes people just need some breathing space. A relationship can be one of the most exhausting things you’ll ever go through.”

“Then why do people do it? Doesn’t bungee jumping or watching a harrowing film provide the same amount of stimulation?”

Despite herself, she laughed. “We do it because we have no choice, Sheldon. Believe me, the day we evolve into your kind can’t come any sooner.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He cracked a rare smile. “The Neanderthals were still attempting to communicate through cave art when they died out, I suspect sapiens will still be playing beer pong and pin the tail on the mating target when the sun reaches peak expansion and inevitably engulfs all life.”

Without thinking, she moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder, turning her head slightly so that her forehead pressed against his pulse. He stiffened, but didn’t push her away. He smelled like talcum powder and hand sanitizer, a hint of vanilla smothered by the heavy disinfectant. Throughout all her ups and downs, Sheldon was her one constant. She couldn’t pinpoint precisely when his incessant door knocking and scathing commentary on her every move had become so integral to her ability to get out of bed every morning. He was the only person who could talk her back into herself. When some guy had broken her heart, she felt like she had just been detonated within. Bits of heart gummed up on her azure walls. Then he’d knock at precisely 11am and she would open her door. He would stare at her for exactly three Mississippis before launching into whatever new vexations he had with mundane life and she would be whole again. Not patched up but as if she’d never been shattered at all.

Just as Sheldon began to relax, Leonard appeared from around the corner, frazzled and out of breath. Sheldon convulsed, his shoulder socket almost giving her a black eye. He peeled her off him and scooted to the far wall, wrapping his arms around himself like he'd just been electrocuted.

“Oh, this is just spectacular. You tear out of there like you’re on fire and I scour the entire compound in complete panic about the possibility that you’ve gotten yourself run over by a truck or something and I find you cozied up with _him_. You, my girlfriend who winces whenever I put an arm around her is literally two seconds away from making out with my psycho roommate.”

She stood up, eyes stinging from tears that were threatening to well up again. “Leonard, it’s not what you think.”

“We were just discussing your deficiencies.” Sheldon quipped, oblivious to the fact that his roommate was seriously considering throttling him.

Leonard scoffed, a rough and ugly sound. “ _My_ deficiencies? Well, guess what. Is it so hard to believe that your chauffeur and Penny’s errand boy is sick and tired of being treated worse than the steaming week-old garbage in General Tso’s dumpster? You think the fact that you have Asperger’s gives you a free pass to waltz into my girlfriend’s apartment and into her bed at 3am because you have the flu and unresolved parental issues? You’re really a genius, you know that. PhD at sixteen? That wasn’t a fluke. You preyed on her masochism from day one, bit by bit, while I fawned over her like an idiot. And then pulled out your trump card when she felt I was suffocating her. Brilliant.”

“Leonard, stop it.” Her voice was weak and she was starting to feel faint. She barely noticed when Sheldon stood up and shielded her with his body. He towered over Leonard, obscuring her view of him. He was always hunched over his laptop, she never noticed how tall he was, or how terrifying he could be when he was mad.

“If you’re suggesting in any way that I might have the slightest interest in pursuing Penny as a romantic prospect, you are deeply mistaken. If you have any plans on pursuing psychology—the village idiot of the sciences—when your career inexorably reaches its long due demise, I suggest you forego all premature preparations. You are an inferior physicist and drawing on Penny’s recent laments, an abject lover to boot. Penny has tended to me when illness rendered me immobile, and now I am simply repaying the favor by serving as a pillar of logic and support during her emotional toils. As for the manipulation you accused me with, I have not once pressured her into doing anything against her will by using our friendship as bait, whereas you have spent the last few days doing everything in your power to get her to spew out three meaningless words that you believe would bolster your frail ego. I believe you owe her an apology.”

Sheldon remained perfectly still as he spoke. Pallid skin closer to marble than flesh. His voice remained calm and steady, but from her vantage point she could see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took in timed, measured breaths between each point. And did Sheldon say friendship? They were neighbours, staircase companions. Acquaintances who shared a bed platonically a grand total of two times.

Leonard took two steps back. He opened his mouth then closed it. “Whatever. She’s yours. I’m getting away from you before whatever incurable mental ailment you possess that makes you so infuriatingly intolerable mutates and becomes contagious. I’ll stay with Raj until I find someplace else hopefully on some other continent.”

He left. Then Sheldon drove her home in her car. At two miles per hour. They didn’t speak the whole way back, and trudged up the stairs in silence. He reached for her elbow again just before they parted ways, but she shrugged him off, shutting her door behind her. That was the last time they spoke. She traces circles on the empty takeout box, back against her front door. It suddenly occurs to her that today is Friday. Chinese takeout night even if hell froze over.

Lieutenant Zac’s voice blares from the TV across the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, she feels surprisingly better. She took an Advil in pre-empt for the hangover. The room only sways slightly when she stumbled to the bathroom. Her neck is slightly stiff from being slumped over the arm rest of her couch. Her shift today would run from ten to four, followed by an audition later in the afternoon. It was for a play centering around a couple in the 70s living in lower Manhattan and would be debuting in New York. She had pored over a the script a few times over within the last week but breaking into her character, Laine, grated on a few nerves, considering that the bulk of the play revolved around her turbulent relationship with her husband, Jack. As an actress, she knows personal mental health was paramount in taking on a role, but she couldn’t turn this one down. The character was made for her. She mouths her lines while working the French press. Two hard raps on her door shatters the reverie.

“Penny.”

She hovers a hand over the door knob, running a hand through her hair and taking a deep breath. She hasn’t seen Sheldon since the night at the bowling alley. If it weren’t for the occasional wrong mail or the clattering of beakers in the night, she would have assumed that he had moved out. She checks her reflection one last time in her wardrobe mirror before opening the door.

“Hey, Sheldon. How are you doing?”

He’s dressed for work, a signature comic book shirt over a plain long sleeve paired with pressed tartan trousers. Hands wrangling the strap of his khaki cross body bag, knuckles white. He’s unusually skittish, and there were dark circles forming under his eyes, accentuated by his pale skin.

“Very well. I trust you had a substantial breakfast?”

“What? Err…yeah, I guess. Not really a breakfast person.” His attempts at small talk were getting better, even though she could still sense that he was breadcrumbing her to his preplanned whims.

“Excellent. I wouldn’t trust someone with low blood sugar to operate a moving vehicle, especially considering the amount of concentration it requires to navigate morning traffic.” He pauses, waiting for her to connect the dots.

“You need me to drive you to work?” She sighs.

“Now that you mention it, that would be lovely. The route you take to work passes the university, doesn’t it? It wouldn’t cost you more than roughly thirty seconds to turn into the drop off point. As of yesterday, I’ve been officially banned by the bus company for breaking into vehicles at night to spray Lysol onto the seats.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do. I mean, it is partly my fault that Leonard moved out.”

“Leonard’s reasons for moving out cannot be directly ascertained, but I suspect his unmet exigency for approval due to his mother’s neglect has caused irreparable damage to his frontal cortex hence impairing skills involving planning and decision making. Your rejection of his affections was merely the match in the powder barrel, as my mother used to say.”

“Look, I know he’s your friend, but I couldn’t lie to him. I hope you understand that. And I hope this situation with Leonard doesn’t change anything between us.”

He waves his arm in exaggerated gallantry. “We do what we must.”

“I’ll just grab my purse and we can get going.”

They trek down the stairs, shoulders bumping every so often. She wonders if he had ever lived alone, and what that must be like for him. Howard and Raj had probably deserted him temporarily, and she couldn’t help but feel terrible that she had instigated this rift between them. She steals a glance at him. He isn’t looking at her, but rather watching each step, taking extra care not to fall. He’s being uncharacteristically mild today, choosing to ask about her auditions rather than grilling her over the state of her apartment.

“I have an audition later today actually. The play will be in New York if I get the part.”

They get into the car. She finally fixed the check engine light, much to Sheldon’s relief.

He side-eyes her. “If your previous track record of auditions is anything to go by, I assume the plot follows another asinine domestic cage fight between two highly intoxicated people that usually ends with a scantily clad woman dousing her disheveled, cheating spouse with cheap wine?”

“Pretty much. But the script seems pretty promising. It’s called _As I Lay Awake_ , written by some dude that won a Tony last year. The Nobel prize of my world.”

“A prestigious award it must be then.” He fiddles with the glove box. “I suppose I could make the time to catch a viewing of it.”

“Seriously? You’re telling me you want to fly to New York just to sit through three hours of moping and binge drinking?”

“I have a back log of stipulated leave that I must clear, and now that the annual week-long paintball-laser tag combo extravaganza is temporarily postponed, I have a fair amount of unprecedented free time on my hands.”

She’s stunned, but keeps her eyes on the road. Sheldon Cooper was offering to accompany her to New York to watch her play? He had always made a huge fuss whenever she rehearsed her lines too loudly or changed the topic whenever she went on about it during dinner. He notices her silent astonishment.

“Leonard’s recent outburst has made me reflect on my…misalignments with many aspects of the social world. Perhaps immersing myself in an artform that represents the apex of its repulsivity would incite a breakthrough of sorts. When pondering Weakly Interacting mass particles and their relation to dark matter, I find it useful to blindfold myself when performing menial tasks.”

Since Leonard was out of the picture and her mum was probably drunk out of her mind back in Nebraska, a week in New York with Sheldon seemed almost appealing. 

“Yeah sure, that’d be fun. It’d be nice to see a familiar face in the crowd.”

She pulls up outside the campus drop off point and he gets out.

“I’ll see you back here at six sharp,” he reminds her curtly. “Try not to be tardy.”

With that, he turns and walked stiffly towards the physics building.

She sticks her head out of the window. “Hey, I almost forgot. Thanks for the take out last night. You left it at my doorstep? That was really sweet.”

He speeds up, giving no other indication that he heard her.

****

There are roughly ten other blondes, excluding her, in the waiting room. The girl next to her, Chelsea, was perky and from Nebraska as well. When she leaned in to wish her good luck, she suspected they were wearing the same strawberry scented lip gloss. For some reason, it makes livid, kindling a desire to simultaneously burst into tears and smash a hole into the concrete wall behind her. She had been to dozens of auditions and had seen so many different clones of herself, except taller and prettier. What did she have to offer that they didn’t? What set her apart from the horde of wide-eyed girls from small towns who moved to L.A. to pursue the same ridiculous dream of being a film star?

She didn’t have an answer to that before she met Leonard and the guys. Their constant awe when in her presence made her feel she was the most beautiful woman in the world. But Sheldon was different, he acknowledged her beauty but wasn’t fazed by it. He coaxed out a different side of her—a temperament she never knew she had and words she didn’t even know was part of her vocabulary. Despite his constant mockery, there was always a challenge in his eyes, an eagerness for her to hit back. Hard. Then a shift into quiet satisfaction when she did. They would continue bantering when the other guys had turned their attention back to the TV, the distance between them closing without either of them realizing it until their chests were inches apart. To him, she wasn’t another disillusioned peach from the west. She was Penny. If she was being honest with herself, her heart always stuttered when Sheldon answered the door instead of Leonard. She looked for signs that he was pleased to see her, but he never gave anything away. And now she had promised him that they’d be going to New York together in the fall. She isn’t planning on letting him down.

“Next.” The grouchy assistant pokes her head out from of the room. “Penny, right?”

“Yep, that’s me.” She extends a hand that was waved away.

The row of casting directors stares at her like she was a specimen on a petri dish. The man on the far left speaks first.

“Alright, Craig here will be playing opposite you as Jack. Scene twelve from the top.”

A tall buff guy walks into the room and took his mark next to her. He’s decent looking, with grey eyes and a five o’clock shadow. They did the scene and she thought it went well. But when she sneaks a peek, the panel looks about as enthused as toddlers at a string orchestra. When they finally let her go, she realizes that she only has five minutes to drive back to the university.

“Hey.” Craig sidles up to her. “Wanna grab a drink?”

“I would. But I have to pick my friend up from work.”

Craig raises an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend?”

“No—”

“Then you don’t owe him anything.”

She gives him a once over. Once upon a time, she would have been all over him. Her old self felt so close, but simultaneously unrecognizable. She shrugs, by way of an apology.

“I gotta run.”

***

“Where have you been?” Sheldon grumbles as she pulled up.

“Sorry, the audition ran a little late.”

“Did your watch freeze or was the switch from digital to analog too much for you?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Get in and shut your trap.”

“You’re in a foul mood. Did your audition not go as expected? But then again, with your extensive resume of porno cameos and a single pithy toothpaste commercial, blatant rejection would be the expected outcome.”

“Hey, what happened to ‘Mr. I’ll-fly-to-another-state-to-see-your-play-Cooper’ from this morning? I’ve got a sledgehammer in the trunk that hasn’t seen action in a long time.” He raises his hands in mock surrender and she runs a red light. “The audition was a bust. I met ten other of my doppelgangers in the waiting room and I was the last one up. How do you think it went?”

“Mitosis is still limited to cells and bacteria. Although, human cloning is a possibility in the next two centuries.”

“Listen, do you think I’m a cliché? Do you feel like you’ve met me a million times before actually meeting me?”

“As you know, I am a firm believer of the Many Worlds theory in quantum mechanics, which dictates that there are an infinite number of universes existing simultaneously. By this logic, we have met, are meeting, and will meet an infinite amount times. But it is only _you_ —or more accurately—only versions of you that versions of myself is coming into repeated contact with, not anybody else.”

She smiles. “That sounds almost romantic.”

“Your tendency to allocate meaning to scientific facts would create that illusion.”

Just as she backs into the parking lot, her phone chimes. She almost drops the phone after reading the text. The audition panel was inviting her for a call back.

“Oh my god! I got a call back! They actually liked it!”

Without thinking, she sprints over to the passenger side and flings her arms around Sheldon. His hands close on her lower back, keeping them both from toppling onto the grass. There it was again. That talcum disinfectant scent that was somehow as intoxicating as cologne. Unconsciously, she winds her fingers around the string of his windbreaker, pulling him closer to her.

“Penny, my ribs are about to cave under the gargantuan strength of your apelike arms.”

“Sorry.” She pulls back. It might have been her imagination but his alabaster skin is slightly flushed.

“How about that, huh?” She grins, scanning the text message again. “We’re headed to New York.”

“Seems that way.”

“Hey, I’ll make spaghetti with that marinara sauce you like to celebrate. You’re going to have to help me run lines for my call back scene. Drop by in an hour’s time.”

Before he can respond, she dashes up the stairs to her apartment and shut the door. Everything is exactly how she left it this morning, but the very air in her apartment felt different. Lighter. This could be her big break. Her name in gold lights all over Broadway. She hums the rift to ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ as she stirs in some leftover bacon into the sauce, cracking open a fresh bottle of Chardonnay. Like clockwork, two raps sound on her door at half past seven.

“Come on in.” She purrs, leaning against the door frame. The wine was starting to kick in, and was already starting to feel pretty tipsy.

He looks at her disapprovingly before stepping in and surveying her apartment. “I should have known you would use this rare joyous occasion as an excuse to intoxicate yourself to the point of incoherence.”

They chat about work during dinner, exchanging stories about their strange colleagues. She laughs as Sheldon described his more elaborate past pranks on Kripke and several others who he felt had wronged him. Warmth spreads from stomach to chest. As he breaks off on another befuddling tangent, she muses over what these random dinners mean to him. A Bath and Body Works candle sits burning on the window sill next to them. The wine glasses are out, albeit his is filled with sprite. She was attracted to him upon sight, but soon realized he was completely impenetrable. And yet, he is the most fascinating person she had ever met. While dating Leonard, she nurtured a noxious delusion that he would one day emerge from his world where reality was murky, and turn to her with light in his eyes; brimming with a newfound clarity.

After dinner, she badgers him to do a scene with her, even going as far to promise to drive him to work and the comic book store for the rest of the year.

“Come on, Sheldon. I really need someone to feed me the lines.”

“Penny, if I had any interest in pursuing the arts, I wouldn’t have spent ten years of my life on two doctorates and a masters in particle physics. In fact, you and I wouldn’t even have met as I would currently be playing hookah and sleeping in a weed den with all the other Julliard graduates.”

She hands him a copy of the script. “Just read out Jack’s part, okay? It’s easy. Just mimic what I’m doing.”

He turns his attention to the script, giving it a brief once over then putting it down.

“You don’t need it?”

“I have an eidetic memory.” He reminds her. “You may begin.”

She shimmies her shoulders, slipping into Laine’s character. “What do you want me to say? That I was happy in this dog gone marriage?”

He looks her dead in the eye. “You should have told me right from the start you were sleeping with him. You’re no woman. You pummel everything you touch. I shouldn’t let you near any glass, you’d slice your hands to ribbons.”

She’s stunned. Sheldon’s take on the character was completely unexpected. Craig was supposed to be burly and insipid, but when Sheldon spoke his lines, there was a new splintered quality to the words, a soul-deep sadness. The character morphs before her eyes. Fragile and fiercely intelligent, desperate to salvage a relationship but somehow ended up making things infinitely worse. Crap. She had completely blanked. She clears her throat.

“Sure, I fucked him. Sue me. But I didn’t for single second—” She circles around behind him, bringing her lips right up to his ear. “Stop thinking about you.”

Sheldon jerks away from her. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with this, Penny. This…pseudo charades, if you will, really isn’t my forte. I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I improvised that last bit.” She starts but he already made a beeline for the door.

“Thank you for dinner."

He shuts the door behind him and she listens to his footsteps padding across the hallway, a part of her wanting to run after him and…what? When she read through the scene again, she realized that it ended with Jack and Laine making out followed by an implied sex scene. She was too wasted earlier to flag it before they started. For Sheldon, the line between truth and fabrication; simulation and reality is a thin one, and should be treaded with caution. And yet, she can’t stop herself from wondering what might have happened if they got to the end of the scene.

“Shit.” She mutters to no one in particular.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions of drug use, alcoholism and physical injury

The following morning, she wakes to her jarring pop-ballad alarm rather than Sheldon’s knocking.

She checks her phone only to realise she had missed a text from him stating that he didn’t require transport for the week. And another informing her in block print he had arranged for a private car to shuttle him to and from the university. She face palms. She drives herself insane sometimes. Why the hell did she even get him to help her with her lines? He had looked at her with unabashed shock and horror when she drunkenly came onto him as Laine. There was even a hint of betrayal, a look so foreign that she could barely envision the appraising warmth veiled with mock contempt she had gotten so accustomed to. For a second, she thought that he might have been fighting back tears. She hadn’t seen him since that night. Sheldon was off lately. He stared off into space when they were together, even meekly nodding and feigning interest when she went on about trite celebrity gossip. And offering to accompany her to New York was cherry on the cake. Leonard’s absence must have been a bigger blow than she’d anticipated, but there wasn’t much she could do to mend the situation. All her calls went straight to voice mails, and she never bumped into him even when she paced up and down the stairs for hours.

She looks down at the cake she was attempting to bake as a distraction. The concoction of eggs and flour was splattered all over her counter from the violent whisking. Dealing with Sheldon reminds her of the thousand-piece puzzle her parents had bought her when she was ten. She spent weeks getting only halfway through before smashing it with a box hammer out of frustration. Afterwards, she spent every night examining each individual piece to see if they were damaged, because she knew that the next day, she’d be right back at it, chipping away at something that offered little to no promise or quittance.

She goes to the call back, and does another scene with Craig and was handed the role right after. Apparently, sparks flew when they were together, and she smiles like she felt it too. But for some reason, the ecstasy isn’t even fleeting. It isn’t there at all. Her first big break and all she could feel was numbness. Sheldon had infiltrated her life, but did he have to trespass into her thoughts as well? As she gathers her things and heads for the door, Craig high-fives her and bugs her for a drink, a rehash of the many suave seduction routines she had been forced to witness. She declines, trying not to roll her eyes. Were guys always this obvious? Did she always have this dude-specific telepathy? Or was it something that Sheldon instilled with her, a subconscious training like his experiment with the chocolates, filling her with the same superiority that came so naturally to him.

Instead, she drives to the nearest Walmart to pick up a crate of pre-mixed mojitos, then cruises around Pasadena with the top down until the sun is a cotton candy swirl of pink and blue and she is one more sip away from a being an official road hazard. She can’t go home just yet. Another night spent sitting in front of the TV pretending to care about the _Real Housewives of Atlanta_ then turning it to mute so she could eavesdrop on what Sheldon was watching next door would be unbearable. She hangs out at Taco Bell nibbling at a quesadilla until after Sheldon’s bedtime before finally heading back, taking extra care to tiptoe up the stairs. As she turned her key, she realized that 4A’s door was hanging ajar. Her heartbeat skitters, hot pulse in her ears. There couldn’t have been another robbery, not after he had installed the infrared motion sensor and wired the building's alarm system to the nearest police station.

She tiptoes across hall and peeks in. The TV and Xbox were still in their designated places, but the bookshelf had been tipped. At least five white boards had been defaced with illegible formulas scattered all over the floor, along with some stray take out containers. Bitter dread pools in her stomach as she approached the eerily silent, moonlit bedrooms. The apartment flag was now tacked to Leonard’s door, inverted to mark his absence. A clatter in the bathroom. She jimmies the locked door.

“Sheldon?” She yells. “Open this door right now.”

It swings open. Sheldon Cooper looms over her, clutching the wall for support. Her hand flies to her mouth. A nasty welt above his right eye seals it partially. He’s clutching his ribs in a way that made her think that his facial injuries were the least of it. There’s a syringe in his right hand, and at first she thought he might have been in the middle of an experiment gone awry, until she catches sight of the small pack of white powder on the sink, accompanied by a lighter.

“Sweetie.” She manages. “What the hell—”

“ _Sweetie_.” He spits. “You don’t know how much I despise that term. You only used it when Leonard was around, to infantilize me and cement his position as the alpha male. Well, he’s gone now, so you can drop all false pretences.”

“What happened? Did you get into some kind of accident?”

“Oh, you mean this?” He gestures to his face, the sudden movement almost causing him to lose balance. “Some of Kripke’s thugs found me. He never forgave me for foaming his miserable rathole of a lab along with the Board of Directors. All the equipment in there had to be sent in for maintenance, stalling his research for a considerable amount of time. My association with Leonard was my only line of defense. When they realized that we were currently at an impasse, they cornered me on a side street.”

"Kripke, huh? I'll throttle that weasel."

"A fitting vengeance has already been organized, Penny. I don't need you to entangle yourself in my battles. Brilliance begets envy, like moths to a flame. One shouldn’t complain.”

When she reaches out for him, her hands are shaking. He doesn’t wince or duck out of reach when she ghosts her knuckles over his swollen eye. He just stares at her. Stares through her. She decides not to mention the heroin on his bathroom sink.

“I’ll get out the first aid kit.” She grabs his arm, tugging him out of the bathroom. He stumbles, but she catches him just in time. She slings an arm around his waist to hold him steady. His hipbone digs into her side. She doesn’t remember him being this bony the last time they hugged.

He let her take his hand and guide him towards the bed. She douses a cotton ball in antiseptic and presses it to his temple. He doesn’t wince or complain, instead he reaches under his pillow and pulls out a notebook. He opens it and hands the book to her. She frowns in confusion, he never showed his work to anyone, especially not someone like her who could barely comprehend this mess, much less copy it. Messy equations and diagrams, his illegible way of making the world legible. She expects no less, but the look on his face suggests that this means something more.

“I’ve been having dreams. Usually during peak REM, my brain conjures up playbacks of memory, rarely new content. Of course, I know that dreams are merely electrical brain impulses that pull random thought and imagery from memory, but these ones I’ve been having are rather worrisome. They’ve been about my work. About the choices humans make and how they ripple outwards towards all the existing parallel worlds. In this state of REM, I’ve been given access into these parallel worlds. An implausible phenomenon, no doubt, but I cannot neglect their persistence and validity.”

“They’re just dreams. You’ve been worked up lately.”

He shakes his head fervently. “I’ll attempt to explain this in layman terms. Every choice you make creates one or more choices. The Many Worlds theory dictates that when a choice is selected in an any event, the other unchosen options morph into branches within other realities where versions of you opted for those choices instead. But in these dreams that I believe to be a rare transcendence into a state that I might never inhabit, I’ve met other versions of myself and gotten a glimpse into those parallel worlds. After you dumped Leonard, I’ve always assumed that there would be versions of you that didn’t. That comforted me in a way. In other universes, I would still be living with my best friend, even if I was not in this one.”

He pauses, gauging her reaction. For once, they are completely on the same page. She nods, signalling him to go on.

“But my parallel selves have informed me otherwise.”

This is insane. It was just some thought experiment, like that Schrödinger’s cat that Leonard told her about. This was probably residual effects from all the recent trauma he had been experiencing. Her eyes dart back up to the welt on his temple. Perhaps it would be safer to take him to emergency room to rule out a concussion.

She decides to play along. “Are you saying that in all versions of that night we went bowling, I never told Leonard I loved him?”

“In essence, yes. There were versions of that night where either Wolowitz or Koothropali had absented themselves due to separate chain events unique to that particular timeline. Most surprisingly, Will Wheaton was absent in some of them as well, eliminating the possibility that his presence altered the final outcome. Hence, this led me to a conclusion that has confounded me for weeks. The only constant variables were you, obviously, and myself.”

She sits back, lost for words. She thinks back to that night. Standing in front of a shattered Leonard while her eyes drifted traitoriously over his shoulder, locking on an oblivious Sheldon examining a bowling ball for any signs of sabotage. Her words came back to her, so clearly that she could feel the weight of them in her throat. _I’m sorry, Leonard. You don’t deserve this._ It takes her a moment to realize what Sheldon is asking her now, blue eyes incandescent in the half dark of his bedroom.

“Of course, after the first night, this state did not reoccur and to regain this newfound ability peer into the other universes, I was forced to seek assistance from opioids.” He adds sheepishly. “When my neurochemical and limbic activity were overly stimulated, I found that I could easily slip in and out of that state.”

“Is this your way of saying you relied on external stimulants to block out the pain of losing someone? If so, I’m proud to say that you and I have never been more alike.”

He is still waiting, earlier words meant to smooth over the awkwardness and giving her time to think. She chooses her words carefully, knowing that whatever comes out of her mouth next would set the course for whatever it was that stands between them, stubborn and resistant.

“I swore I wouldn’t lie to Leonard, even if that meant hurting him. That goes for you too. I liked Leonard, but I didn’t love him. I knew he was broken and angry like me, and meeting his mom only confirmed it. I wanted someone that worshipped me, because it was hard to feel like I was worth anything after failing so many times. I thought finding a guy who did that would be enough, but it wasn’t. And you—"

He leans forward; eyes wider than she had ever seen them before.

“You gave me such a hard time when we first met. I couldn’t help but think if we were in high school, we’d be sitting on the opposite sides of the cafeteria. Opposing ends of the social hierarchy. When I tried to flirt with you, you’d insult me in a way that cut more than anything my dumb exes said. Remember how you got me hooked on _Age of Conan_? It seemed like every time I stepped into your world, I took things too far. Screw moderation. And you know me and alcohol, I’m a hopeless addict. And then we spent more time together and I realized that being away from you felt like— ”

Withdrawal.

“Being around you terrifies me.” 

She takes a shaky breath to collect herself. He is so close that his breath tickles her ear. She runs his words over her mind. They were the only constant in every timeline. Was this just his way of expressing his feelings for her without showing his cards? She knows that Sheldon Cooper is arrogant, possibly the most arrogant person she will ever meet, but there is no way he could be arrogant enough to delude himself into thinking that fate moulded itself around him. 

“I’m scared too.” He says softly, in an imperceptible tone. “What are your thoughts in regards to this?”

She can’t have this conversation now. She is drunk and he is high. They are on his bed and the lights are mostly out. Dangerous territory.

“I think what we both need now is some sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning. They usually are.”

He leans back into the stack of pillows, features rearranging into a familiar smugness. “Let’s hope this clarity you seem so hopeful about isn’t dampened by your trademark morning hangover that usually renders you even more inarticulate than usual. You reek of artificially flavoured convenience store liquor.”

She kisses his cheek, lobs him with a bolster then shuffles out the door. “Goodnight Sheldon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References on Many Worlds Theory research:  
> https://www.quantamagazine.org/why-the-many-worlds-interpretation-of-quantum-mechanics-has-many-problems-20181018/  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

Sheldon Cooper always assumed rage to be a construct.

Sure, there were many times when the taunts from the thugs at middle school struck a nerve on a particularly bad day. Or when his friends insisted on testing the boundaries of his meticulously calibrated rules. But he reminded himself that he was immune. That his seemingly human façade of flesh was just a cover for the iron and cogs that whirled underneath. You could break the man, but the machine was immortal. He lived each day with that shield that he had forged with his mind, and surprisingly his friends and colleagues caught on to what he was doing. When the insipid term “robot man” fell out of Wolowitz’s mouth, a cool triumph had surged through him. He had managed to separate himself from the failings of the rest of humanity. Partitioned himself from the pain, confusion and mayhem that plagued others around him.

He often dreamed of suspending his consciousness long after his body had wasted away. The body was so weak. Locked in eternal opposition with the mind, he had to allocate precious hours to tend to it. Feed it and rest it. And yet, sometimes it ached for something not of the physical world. This amorphous hunger that lurked in the recesses of his mind like a virus, hijacking the compartments and codes that contained vital information and analyses gleaned from his eidetic memory over the years. This intruder that only revealed itself through physical signs—twitching of the fingers, racing heartbeat, dizziness. He wasn’t merely irate. He was furious.

The sensation first emerged as he watched Leonard pack up his possessions into cardboard boxes. He couldn’t understand why a termination of sexual relations between Leonard and Penny should result in him having to suffer. Finding a roommate that adhered to the agreement he had spent weeks writing and finetuning was a feat in itself, and Leonard had proved himself to be both useful and amicable for the most part. His fatal flaw—one that Sheldon had noticed since the first day—had been the final detonator. He didn’t see why Penny had been the last straw for Leonard. She wasn’t starkly different from the women of his previous engagements. She had symmetrical features, a proportionate body and silky tresses. And more confounding still, Leonard seemed to believe that he and Penny had begun an affiliation unbeknownst to him.

(He often thought back to the time where she first waltz into their apartment, scanned the haphazard sprawl of quantum mechanics on his board and declared him a genius without the least bit of comprehension for what was written. Still, he had buckled with the compliment. The invader had thrummed through his bloodstream, mocking.)

The parts of his days that deviated from his pre-planned schedule were somehow always spent with her. Some otherworldly force tugged him out of his mornings of oatmeal and doctor who, and like an affliction similar to sleepwalking, he found himself at her door at eleven sharp, racking his brain for a topic of conversation in the seconds after he had knocked (seemingly out of his own volition) and before she came bounding over to open it. Wide eyes and overly-sweet raspberry body spray and chaos. She’d smile in a way that even he could discern was hopeful, and he would smother the budding symptoms of his internal invasion with a spiteful comment. Her brows would crinkle in confusion and he would retreat back into himself.

The opioids were merely a way of repressing the various receptor sites in his brain. Sleep was becoming elusive and he found himself dozing off on the edge of a breakthrough. A sharp pain had embedded himself in the space between his ribs and lower stomach. He researched on recreational drugs and finally settled on the infamous drug of illusion—heroin.

_Endorphins flood the space between nerve cells and usually inhibit neurons from firing, thus creating an analgesic effect. When endorphins do their work, the organism feels good, high, or euphoric, and feels relief from pain. Like an evil twin, the morphine molecule locks onto the endorphin-receptor sites on nerve endings in the brain and begins the succession of events that leads to euphoria or analgesia._

It was fairly easy to obtain from his connections within the chemistry department in Caltech. The first jab was fairly unpleasant and he vomited twice. The second and third were tolerable. The fourth was an epiphany. Morphine diffused from the bloodstream, seeping into brain. His bathroom floor felt like the warmest, cosiest cocoon. The visions of the alternate existing realities emerged, clear as day. He could peer into any of his choosing, turn back time and make the right choice a million times over. Then he noticed Penny’s refusal to conform to his Godly manipulations, always choosing to dump Leonard despite every new variable he imposed on the timeline. From his view in the clouds, he noticed her hazel eyes coming to rest on his distracted form for a brief second, before storming out of the bowling alley. Whenever his eidetic memory stirred, he would reach for the needle, filling himself with the drug until he could no longer see the expression on her face, on Leonard’s.

When Leonard had shoved the last of his boxes out the door, he did something he’d never thought he’d do. He asked him to stay. Without Leonard, the eight square meters that sat between 4A and 4B would dissipate. The door signs would merge. There would be no telling where either began. Was this internal assault on his senses a prelude for the larger physical infiltration that was to come? Leonard turned around to face him, expression indiscernible. Then to his surprise, he smiled. Facial expressions were always disconcerting, but something in him knew that Leonard’s grin was caustic rather pleased.

“It’s always been you, buddy. Right from that first day. She only came over when she knew you were around. Used some dumb video game as an excuse to sneak into your bedroom long before I got her into mine. And the best part is, you weren’t even interested.”

“Leonard.” He had hazarded. “Are you implying that the possibility of both you and Penny existing in my life simultaneously is nullified from this point onwards?”

“Are you saying that you’re interested in her?”

“That remains ambivalent.”

“She’s going to get tired of this soon, you know. This demented cat-and-mouse chase the two of you have going on.”

“The fact that you have reduced Penny and I to animals doesn’t elevate you in the manner you perceive, it merely draws further attention to your adolescent anguish.”

“You won’t make her happy. That’s all I’m saying.”

The door shut. He sank down on his desk chair, the glow of his monitor the sole source of illumination in the room. Something within him began to unspool. The fire started from the base of his spine, spreading across his back then shooting up his neck. Images of blood and gun fire danced in front of him in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is just a short chapter from Sheldon’s POV as I wanted to show his descent into addiction as this will be crucial for the next chapter from Penny’s POV. POVs might alternate from this point on depending on the plot material.


	5. Chapter 5

Rehearsals began, and Craig wasn't about to let up. Penny forces a smile as he sashays about during their read throughs, trying to find any excuse to touch her. He’s sweet but has slightly eerie–mannequin perfect features, a robotic strut, and steamed pressed linen shirts. Not even a sliver of the chaos she had become so accustomed to. She knows her line delivery is mechanic, but she can’t bring herself to care. She merely nods at the notes the director constantly hands her, her thoughts conjuring up images of Sheldon, gaunt in the slant of moonlight, cutting heroin with a ruler. Life occasionally got tough for everyone, and people racked up a few habits here and there. But not Sheldon. His body is a sacred vessel that he guards from contamination and injury with a near manic paranoia. The devil on her shoulder whispers that maybe she’s the problem. That she shouldn’t have drunk so much in front of him. Shouldn’t have alluded to the fact that one could poison themselves out of grief. Shouldn’t have pronounced toxins as antidote. Maybe she should have stayed away from him. If she did, he might still have a roommate. He wouldn’t be coming home to an empty apartment, while she sits alone in hers, the silence more stifling than ever.

But she likes what had blossomed between them in Leonard’s absence. Without Leonard's constant intrusion, she is finally able to see Sheldon as he is, untainted by the constant mockery that Leonard made sure to hurl his way at every opportunity. From that first day, Leonard had gaslighted her into believing that he was the only viable option between the both of them, and she had convinced herself so, suppressing part of her that was drawn to his bizarre compatriot. It was easy to dub Sheldon as the weirdo, the butt of every joke, even the ones that weren't funny and sometimes downright cruel. But she was no saint either. She had fashioned Leonard into a liminal buoy she used to observe the guy she truly wanted, a doorway into his world. Yes, she wanted Sheldon. More than she had ever wanted any other guy. The distance was a blessing, she could finally admit it now. She knew that her and Leonard were doomed to failure the second they got together. She didn’t love him, and no amount of begging or guilt tripping could dredge up feelings she simply didn't have. And the horrible truth of it all was that even without his humiliating objectification of her and unrelenting micro-aggressions, she still wouldn’t have loved him. He was and always had been the white noise that buzzed between Sheldon and her, a mere blip on their stratosphere.

“Hey, I saw you the other day at The Cheesecake Factory. Was hanging out with a couple of buddies. You work there?”

She startles, nearly jumping out of her skin. She looks up to see Craig staring quizzically at her from across the stage. He has on a white singlet under a black bomber jacket. Her eyes skims the bulge of his prominent biceps—a reflex—and his smile widens.

“Yeah, it was sort of a side gig. You know, until this whole acting thing took off. I mean, this break might not go anywhere, so I thought I could use it as a fallback.”

Craig takes a step closer, slightly stunned that she had said more than three words to him.  
“Cool. You look really good in that uniform.”

“Nah. Yellow isn’t my color.”

“Did your boyfriend tell you that?” He smirks and she sighs. Back to the million-dollar question.

“I’m single right now. Freshly out of a relationship.”

“That’s interesting. So am I. What do you say to Mexican tonight? It’d be nice to be served instead of you know, serve for a change, won’t it?.”

She had many dinners with many different men over the years. Before accepting a dinner invitation, she would always envision a hypothetical version of the night, basing it on her impression of the guy. With Craig, there would be sloppy burritos followed by tequila shots. Dumb jokes and easy laughs. A drive-in movie where he would feel her up through her cheap polyester dress. Her five-inch heels would hurt her feet. She would sleep with him just because he paid for dinner and said she was beautiful. She’s almost bored by this sequence of events, and they haven’t even occurred yet. When had she become such a skeptic? When had simplicity turned into something to be mocked?

“Sure.” She says, just to prove to herself or the universe that the old Penny was still in there.

But somewhere within, she curses the lithe scientist that had the audacity to waltz into her life and upend her measurement of happiness. Replaced Friday night clubbing with Dungeons and Dragons. Soccer games with paintball matches. Carnal groping with timid half-hugs. Sex with coitus. Flirty stare-offs with warm, perceptive glances. Blind lust with neurochemical reactions. Her huge, overwhelming reality had shrunk to the size of a marble that she could inspect between two fingers. In many ways, he _had_ proved the existence of another world.

***

Dinner with Craig goes exactly as she expected, except for the last bit. Instead of drunkenly slipping into his apartment at the end of the night, she pecks him on the cheek after a post-date latte and walks a triumphant three blocks home after midnight. It was progress. Baby steps. But it all falls apart when she unlocks her door to the dank darkness of her apartment. Musty day old laundry and unwashed dishes. She collapses onto the floor, shaking. Somehow, she had wired her body to anticipate another one on top it after a huge dinner and a couple of drinks. She had never left a date hanging when sex was on the table. Never turned a warm body away to curl up into her cold sheets.

Sheldon would be asleep now. So vulnerable. She still had that spare key. She could slip into his bedroom. Climb on top of him and rip through that plaid cotton. He wouldn’t turn her away. Would he? He had hugged her twice, close enough that she felt his heartbeat thump against her ribs. She had been with enough guys to know which ones wanted her just by giving them a once over. But Sheldon was inscrutable. And insane. They wouldn't hook up. They would collide. And it would be devastating; disintegrating. Reach for the bottle. Alcohol was her confidant, her only ally when everything else had deserted her. Two shots of vodka. Blue eyes. Boring into hers. Tequila with a crust of salt. Piano hands on her waist. No. No. More vodka. A slug of gin. Could this kill her? She would have to find out. She gurgles, her throat starting to burn. Black.

***  
The next morning, the two solid raps on her door seem like a hallucination. During her worst hangovers, the world slips underwater. They don’t go away when she smothers her head with a pillow. When she finally drags herself out of bed, Sheldon takes a startled step backward when she swings open the door.

“Oh. Sheldon.” She cringes at her zebra print tank and tousled bed head. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Penny, I would like to invite you to an event.” He blurts.

“An event?”

“Yes, as you know I have received many accolades for my achievements. I received word this morning that I am this year’s recipient for the J.J. Sakurai Prize in Theoretical Particle Physics, awarded by the American Physical Society. I apologize for the inebriated debacle that was the previous awards ceremony. Nevertheless, I have always found your presence…comforting amidst the unavoidable distress that is the obligatory speech I have to give.”

She grins. “So you’re not planning on subjecting us to another elements song and bonus strip tease?”

“That is the plan.”

“Damn, that was the only thing that kept me awake throughout that snooze fest. You’ve got some moves, Moon pie.”

She takes in his wide, innocuous eyes. Long fingers death-gripping his bag strap. Then she remembers the pact she had made with herself. Stay away.

“Sure, I’d love to come. I’m kinda seeing this guy, his name is Craig. Is it alright if I bring him along?”

He squares his shoulders, a visible deflation in his gait that he tries to mask. “Isn't that the invertebrate with the penchant for starfishes who amused us with his non-ironic commentary regarding lasers blowing up the moon? He was satisfactory as superman despite his mental limitations.”

“No, Craig is an actor as well. He’s going to star opposite me in Broadway.”

“Oh, the humanities.” Sheldon mutters. “Very well, if you must. The ceremony is tomorrow evening at seven. Just let the security at Caltech know that I invited you...and your friend.”

He turns abruptly and makes his way down the stairs. Penny folds her arms and leans against her door frame, puzzled. Inviting Craig was a test, to see if Sheldon would insist that the invitation was extended only to her. That it was something more than just a friendly request for companionship. But he made no attempt to persuade her go alone. And more disturbingly, Sheldon had seemed so confident about giving a speech. During the previous awards ceremony she had attended, the wine he downed reduced his inhibitions, to the point where he had lost all sense of propriety. Now, he is jittery and exhausted, his usual quips less biting than usual. Something in her curdles. Sheldon Cooper was a glass with a false bottom. There were things about him that she probably would never know or understand and—recent events considered—didn’t particularly want to.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as Sheldon leaves, she shoots a quick text to Craig asking him if he’d be willing to be accompany her to a friend’s ‘science thing’. She winces as she hit ‘send’, recalling the disastrous run in Zack had with the guys, Sheldon taking the lead in the mockery. They had demolished him, and Sheldon locked eyes with her after she chided them, wondering he had successfully made the gulf apparent. He had, and it forever changed the dating sphere for her. Craig has proven himself to be significantly more intellectual, but compared to Sheldon, he may as well be a lab monkey learning how to doodle. Her phone chimes. An enthusiastic affirmation with a heart emoticon. Why was she even doing this anyway? Manipulating a guy into confession the second she caught feelings for him had was so typical of her. Her self-worth had always been so intrinsically tied to her dating score card. It was no wonder she landed only jerks. But Sheldon could barely tell a lie, let alone decipher her attempts at making him jealous. He would probably assume that she wasn’t interested in taking things further, and that would set them back years, abolishing what little progress they had made in the last few weeks.

She spends two whole hours getting ready, longer than she would for any date. And she doesn’t bother trying to convince herself that even a fraction of the effort was for Craig. She digs out the black strapless satin dress from the back of her closet that Sheldon once glided a finger across, tracing his knuckles over the back zipper while they waited in line for a conference Leonard was hosting. Reaches for the only perfume she owned that doesn’t trigger his sinuses. Tugs on the four-inch heels that she wore on a night where she stumbled home drunk after clubbing and tripped over a sleeping Sheldon curled up on the stairwell after another fight with Leonard, resulting in an awkward tussle that sent her into hysterics while Sheldon barked out her sentence—a month long banishment from his apartment they both knew wouldn’t last a day. 

Craig is pacing around the lobby when she finally makes her way down, slick in a button up and dress pants. He holds an arm out wordlessly and she takes it, and he leads out to his car. She offered hers, but he insisted on driving. The guilt is boiling over. He thinks this is a date and she had given him every reason to think so. He’s sullen, something clearly gnawing at him. 

“So what’s the deal with you and this Sheldon?” He asks.

“I moved in across the hall about three years ago and sort of dated his roommate. I told you about Leonard, remember? Short, glasses, dorky.”

“Sort of?” He’s being condescending and his tone is starting to piss her off.

“It was rocky. More offs than ons if you know what I mean.”

“Because you screwed his roommate?”

She turns to him in disbelief. “Excuse me? Where is this even coming from?”

“When you texted me, you didn’t mention that this ‘science thing’ was an awards ceremony dedicated to kissing your genius male neighbor’s ass.”

“So that’s what this is about? You can’t stand the fact that some other guy can be successful within ten feet of you? We are so taking separate cars back because there is no room in here for us both and that ego.”

“No, this is about the fact that you told me to wait in the lobby rather than at your door.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous. I thought you’d care enough to want to support someone who has been there for me for years before you showed up. But I guess I was wrong.”

She has half a mind to tell him to pull over, but they are only one traffic light away from the university campus, windows lit in gold. She had never seen it at night, it looks so regal, fit for a place that housed the world’s leading minds. People who actually had the power and intelligence to make a change in the lives of others. Would she do the same someday, or just remain a supporting face in the crowd? Craig slaps the car keys into the valet’s gloved hand, and they march towards the ballroom. She grabs two glasses off a tray and downs them. This evening would be entirely intolerable sober.

“Let’s meet this champ, shall we?” Craig declares, just as she catches a glimpse of Sheldon making his way towards them, dashing in a suit. It’s hard to believe he owns a tuxedo, let alone one that is so perfectly tailored to his wiry frame and not a garish shade of green or purple. He seems evasive, shifty. When she squints, she realizes that she’s right on the money. He hides behind a wall, covertly stuffing a pair of lab gloves into his back pocket before approaching them.

“Penny, I’m glad you could make it.” He nods at Craig. “I see you’ve brought with you physical evidence that natural selection is indeed biased.”

“What’d you say to me, asshole?” Craig raises an arm but she tugged him back.

“Sheldon, I’d like you to meet Craig. Craig, Sheldon.”

“So you’re the neighbour?” Craig asks.

“Indeed I am. Penny requires a substitute, if you will, whenever a potential mate deserts her. She isn’t particularly scrupulous during these episodes, so you can understand why I am not congratulating you.”

To her horror, Craig’s eyes darken. Unlike Zack, he isn’t absolutely clueless. He caught the gist of Sheldon’s insults even if he didn’t fully fathom the depth of them.

“The only reason why my fist isn’t connecting to your jaw this instant is because you’re the star of the show tonight, and I’m not about to show Penny up.”

Sheldon remains impassive, hands folded primly behind his back. “Connecting _with_ my jaw.”

“Sheldon, I’m warning you.” She hisses. “Play nice.”

He glances at her, and she flinches at the look in his eyes. He isn’t angry. She had witnessed his tirades countless of times. He was psychotic and flailing, a raving mad man that was more likely to cause harm to himself before he carried out the threats he vowed to exact on others. Worlds away from this stoic stranger who could annihilate someone by scanning through a person’s catalogue of weaknesses through pure deduction, cherry picking which ones would hurt the most. This was an emotion she didn’t even know he was capable of. 

She holds her glare and finally Sheldon averts his gaze, shuffling his feet and edging back towards his usual gait. “I apologize for my earlier behavior. Perhaps the glass of wine I had earlier wasn’t the wisest decision.”

Craig nods, a hesitant respect towards the unexpected gesture and she inwardly heaves a sigh of relief. They were bound to despise each other, but at least the warfare could begin after the ceremony. These last few weeks had been stressful enough. She didn’t know what she would do if Sheldon started a fight with her co-star and made him quit before opening night. Then it dawns on her. Sheldon’s odd temperament. A barely restrained rage. Was he upset that she had brought another guy to the event? A dark part of her reveled in the fact that she had hijacked the mainframe and coaxed out a primality she never knew he could exhibit. She didn’t want to be a trophy, but she did want to be desired. Fought over like she was something precious that could be lost.

Just as she is about to drag Sheldon away for a private chat, he pulls a flask out from his jacket, filling a glass with its contents—a clear liquid which he hands it to Craig. 

“Consider this an offer of truce for my previous misdemeanours. They were uncalled for.”

Craig eyes it suspiciously but accepts it, clinking the glass against her champagne flute. Her stomach knots when Sheldon glances at his watch. As if on command, the clear liquid turns a dark inky blue just as the rim touches Craig’s lips. She blinks, failing to believe what she had just seen. Craig yelps and jumps back, swearing loudly, the glass slipping from his grasp. The shatter turns several heads, loud chatter and acapella laughter coming to an abrupt halt. A few chemists cheer. Astrophysicists roll their eyes. A waiter scurries over to sweep up the shards. Sheldon grins at his handiwork, using the newfound attention to breakdown his little gag, like a magician at the end of a show. She isn’t sure what she’s feeling anymore. She should be angry, but all she can think about are wizards and alchemy and gaudy elixirs and how this nightmare feels more like a fairytale than it should.

“Bazinga. Here’s a little treat for the chemists here tonight. A simple trick known as the clock reaction, in which one combines sodium, potassium or ammonium persulfate to oxidize iodide ions into iodine. I was worried the timing might be off, but fortunately my estimated predictions factoring in meaningless small talk and pleasantries were accurate.”

“That’s it. This jerk is gonna get it.” Craig swings a fist but Sheldon dodges it. He grabs Craig’s arm and twists it, leveraging on the elbow joint so that his wrist is the point of pivot, easing the pressure off his bicep. She sees the math reeling behind his deep set eyes. He’s probably calculating how many degrees it would take to sprain the limb, and how many more it would take to break it. 

“Stop it! Both of you!” She yells, bashing her purse against Craig’s shoulder. 

The room pixelates as Craig shoves her off, sending her tumbling to the floor. She had a few shots before Craig picked her up and mixing the champagne wasn’t a good idea. When she gets to her feet, Sheldon is gone and Craig is seething, white shirt stained blue. The room is silent and gawking. Before she can make a run for the exit, he seizes her arm and drags her out to lobby. 

“Craig, I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was going to do that.”

“Was this your plan all along? To use me as some scapegoat for you and your friend’s little prank? You were probably in on it. That’s how you get off. Getting scientists to do your bidding for you. You’re a pathetic whore.” 

He’s yelling but she can see that’s hurt. Confused from all the mixed signals. And it’s all her fault. She can’t explain this. Can’t explain Sheldon. The multitude of feelings that she been suppressing for weeks, now finally rising, thick like bile in her throat.

“Are you in love with him?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. They stare at each other for a moment. Craig laughs, a barking cough. Then without warning, smacks her across the jaw. The blow sends her stumbling on the slippery marble flooring, but she keeps her footing. That was it. One thing she knew for sure was that in Nebraska, no one walks away from a fight. 

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, pal.”

She feigns injury, waits for him to get close then knees him hard in the stomach. Tugging off her left stiletto, she’s seconds away from ramming the heel into his eye socket when an explosion goes off. It sounds more a like a pop, followed by a rattle. A controlled blast. The other guests come tearing down the ballroom stairs. She’s tugged into a sea of bodies, Craig lost in the pandemonium. The cops arrive once everyone is safely out in the carpark. She pushes through the crowd, yelling for Sheldon. She catches him slinking through a couple of disheveled tenured professors, catches hold of his sleeve before he sneaks away.

She tugs him to a secluded corner, folds her arms across her chest. “I’m guessing that little stunt was your doing?”

“I will neither confirm or deny. All I can say is that silver nitrate, magnesium and a sprinkling of H2O is not a good mix.”

“Oh my god.” She jabs him in the shoulder. “Why the hell would you do that? People could have gotten hurt.”

“I saw your little tussle with the invertebrate from the chemistry lab window.”

“I can handle myself.”

He pauses, kicking at the gravel. “I don’t doubt that. Consider this a display of masculine chivalry which I’m sure will be a nice deviation from the previous proceedings of the evening. You might want to ice that lip when you get back.”

She rubs at the bruise forming on her lower lip. Craig had clocked her good. She was going to have to make a report to the director, provided that he didn’t quit first. Sheldon seems antsy, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He had saved her, no matter how much she hated to admit it. A calculated retaliation that involved test tubes and chemicals rather than bare fists. What she had witnessed was a clash of egos, except one party was fighting fire with combat level lasers. Would Leonard do the same? He always needed to impress with braun rather than brain. He would overestimate his physical abilities, get thrashed by someone twice his size then sulk the rest of the night, leaving her to pick up the pieces. 

“What about your award?”

He shrugs. “I’ll pick it up on Monday. At least now I can skip that speech.”

Despite herself, she steps forward and wraps her arms around him. He tenses at first, then places both hands on her waist, fingertips brushing her spine. His nails dug into exposed skin and she gasped a little. The explosion was just a little distraction. He knew it wouldn’t hurt anyone. She hoped. 

“Penny, I have another request to make.” He mumbles into her hair.

“Go ahead. You’ve got me all buttered up now with that little act of heroism.”

He pulls away, straightening his tie. “Excellent. I assumed appealing to your primal feminine instincts would make you more agreeable to this next proposal. I thought we might continue that little thought experiment I shared with you the other night. Since Leonard has departed in all known universes, I’m sure all our alternate selves have taken the opportunity to attempt to deepen their acquaintances, only to realise that our friendly rapport still stands at a moot point. If we followed suit, I can collate the results and prove to Leonard that his trepidations regarding our affiliation are extraneous. He can move back in, and we can all put this little mishap behind us.” 

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I suppose I am. Is that not the social convention to test compatibility?”

She bites at her bruised lip, fighting back a smile. It’s contagious, and his eyes light up the way they always did at the few inside jokes they shared. Moments of absurdity that fell between their polarities. Sheldon Cooper was asking her out on a date on the premise of a daring hypothesis she intended to pummel to pieces with nothing more than her hands and lips.

“Next Saturday’s good for me.”


	7. Chapter 7

She calls in sick for the next few days, after the welt on her lip turned a nasty shade of green, mottled purple veins spiraling down her right side of her chin. She filed a report against Craig and the director of the play informed her that his understudy would be taking over. The only thing she had to look forward to was a date with Sheldon on Saturday. But with each passing hour, she starts to regret taking him up on that offer. They might be jeopardizing their friendship without even knowing it. They were both at their worst. She didn’t get a chance to ask him if he was still on heroin, and she hadn’t been able to last an hour without a drink for the last few weeks. Recently, she had begun experiencing sudden blackouts, closing her eyes to take a nap only to wake up hours later, assuming minutes had passed when it had been hours.

The past few days had been a continuous, fitful dream. Love Island droning in the background, a bottle of gin clamped between her sweat-pant clad thighs, drifting in and out of consciousness. There would be food on her door step like clockwork at five-hour intervals. She told him that he didn’t need to do that, but Sheldon insisted that he needed to ensure she was alive for the date slash experiment. He had offered to drive her home that night, but she needed some time alone to think, and took a cab instead. It would be too reminiscent of the night they went bowling months ago, when everything fell to pieces. A single knock on her door.

“Sheldon?” She calls out. No response.

Still, she runs a comb through a few split ends and smears on some lip gloss. Peeks into the closet mirror to make sure there aren’t any stains on her top. When she opens the door, she’s stunned to find Leonard standing there, a bouquet of lilies in his hand.

“Hey.” He says, stuffing them in her hands a little too frantically. “Sorry they’re wrapped in plastic. I guess I can add pollen to my list of kryptonite.”

“No, they’re lovely. I’m just…surprised to see you.” She ushers him in, fills an empty Merlot bottle with water and plonks the flowers in. She pinches herself a few times to make sure she isn’t still lucid dreaming. He was really here.

“You look good.” She says. “How’s work?”

“Thanks. And you know, same old.”

Leonard’s distracted, taking stock of the row of assorted liquor bottles and overflowing trash bags. He’s looking for signs that another guy has taken his place. A stray muscle tank or bottles of aftershave. He has no idea that he’s been replaced by someone who’s traceless. Practically scentless. A lanky, infuriating genius who has always been by his side, a faux ally, watching her from the shield of his friend’s adaptability and hoping he’d fail.

“So, rough few weeks, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ve been so busy I’ve barely had time to clean. And let’s face it, I wouldn’t even if I did.”

They both laugh even though it sounds forced. He knows she’s hiding something.

“I’ve got good news.” She starts. “I’ve been cast in a Broadway production based on a book. It’s called As I Lay Awake and will be debuting in New York two months from now.”  
“Oh my god, that’s amazing.” He hugs her, a little too tightly. “So you’re going alone?”

“Well, I’ve sort of asked Sheldon to come along for morale support. We’ve been spending some time together and he’s been really sweet.”

His face falls and her insides knot. She should have expected this. Things were probably still tense between them, if they had even spoken at all.

“Never thought I’d hear you say ‘Sheldon’ and ‘sweet’ in the same sentence.”

“But you can totally come too. And Howard and Raj. The more the merrier, right?”

But Leonard shakes his head, turns away from her and sinks down on the couch, staring into space. She folds herself into the space next to him, contemplating if it’s appropriate to touch his shoulder.

“I just didn’t expect the both of you to be buddying up after everything that happened.”

“Leonard, we broke up. That had nothing to do with Sheldon.”

He leaps up and whirls around to face her. “It had everything to do with him and you know it. The second you stormed out of the bowling alley, he went running after you. Don’t you get it? He played me. For years he made my life hell by playing the woe-is-me genius that was above all basic human etiquette and right when we hit a road block, he waltzed right in and made me look like crap. In front of you. The girl I want to marry someday.”

He’s breathing hard, hands on his hips. She’s never seen him so worked up before. And he just said that he wanted to marry her. She has to choose her next words carefully.

“Leonard, we had problems in our relationship that were just too large. I didn’t love you–” He winces at that but she presses on. “And I just couldn’t stand lying to you anymore. You were pressurizing me and I needed to get out. You were infatuated with me and it wouldn’t have been right of me to lead you on. You thought we were soul mates when we just neighbors. Any blonde waitress could have moved into this apartment and you would have been smitten with her.”

“I wasn’t infatuated with you. I was in love with you. You were the one.”

He’s waiting for the scene he had built up in his head to play out. He would come over with flowers and apologize and she would give him another chance. She pleads him with her eyes not to make her say the words. He doesn’t budge.

“But you weren’t the one for me.”

The words hang in the air. Leonard doesn’t scream or cry or throw a fit, his usual methods to get her to cave. He just stands there, staring at her face for what feels like hours. His eyes don’t drift down to her chest or hips like they usually do in their mid-argument staring matches. Instead they come to rest on her swollen lip. Suddenly self-conscious, she reaches for her ice pack to cover it up.

“I dropped by Sheldon’s earlier before you. He mentioned that the both of you were going out this Saturday. Pretty convenient for you that option b isn’t too far away. I didn’t plan on stopping by your place after that, but I guess the masochist in me wanted to see if you’d break the news even if I didn’t ask. And you didn’t. So please, don’t humor me. Don’t act like I’m insane for holding this against him.”

She doesn’t expect that. Her words come out soft, weak. “It came out of nowhere. He just asked me. And I—I wanted to.”

“Were you just stringing me along from the start? Did you use me to get to him?”

“Of course not! How can you even think that?”

“Because this doesn’t make any fucking sense.” He picks up an empty wine bottle and flings it across the room. It shatters over her sink.

She steels herself. “It doesn’t. But the relationships that do never really work out, do they? At least to him, I’m a person and not a prize.”

“Don’t put this on me. I did everything right. I treated you like a goddess.”

“Because you thought I was beautiful!” She shouts. “And that meant everything to you and that was as deep as it went with us.”

“That’s because when men aren’t groveling at your feet you crumble!”

She stares at him, stung. This was a new low, even for him. “ _You_ groveled because you knew that was the only way you could ever get me to sleep with you.”

That silences him and she pushes on.

“I didn’t bring it up because I don’t owe it to you. I’m not trying to get back at you so you can get your head out of your ass. What happens between me and Sheldon has nothing to do with you. And he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He’s got it in his head that we’ll be doing some social experiment to get you to move back in.”

“Penny, considering the amount of credentials between Sheldon and I, I think it’s pretty well-established that neither of us are idiots. He knew perfectly well what he was doing.”

He steps forward, cupping her cheek in his hand. She jerks away just as his thumb inches toward her lip. Then he turns on his heel and struts out the door, closing the door softly behind him.


End file.
